


Counterfeit Pumpkins

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Kurtoberfest 2015 [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddy!Sebastian, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Minor Angst, Pumpkins, daddy!kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian and Thomas come home, excited to get started carving pumpkins for Halloween…until they see the pumpkins Kurt bought.</p><p>Written for the Kurtoberfest prompt ‘pumpkins’. Mostly fluff and humor with a hint of anxiety on Thomas’s part, but with a surprise guest at the end to make up for it :)</p><p>Also written as part of my Daddies verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterfeit Pumpkins

“Pump-kins! Pump-kins! Pump-kins!” Sebastian chants along with his son, Thomas, as they leap from Sebastian’s SUV and head for the house.

“What do we want?” Sebastian yells, racing to the door first and unlocking it before Thomas and his Labradoodle can run headlong into it…again.

“Pumpkins!” Thomas yells.

“When do we want them?” Sebastian flings the door open wide.

“Now!” Thomas cheers, leaping in the air with a hand raised to give his father a high five.

“So, are you guys ready to carve some pumpkins?” Kurt calls to his husband and son, who he can hear racing his way.

“Yeah!” they cheer. Sebastian tickles Thomas to make him go faster, looking just as excited as the wiggling little boy as they both stampede into the kitchen.

But they skid to a stop in the doorway, nearly falling over themselves when they see what’s waiting for them. Four smaller-than-average pumpkins sit on the kitchen island, each the same size, the same shape, obviously faux. Sebastian raises a shaking finger and points at Kurt’s blasphemous offering.

“What…are  _those_?”

“They are” - Kurt picks one up and carries it over to his boys, who both take a simultaneous step away - “craft pumpkins.”

“Wh-what does that mean, exactly?” Sebastian asks. “Craft pumpkins? What kind of awful witchcraft is that?”

“It means…” Kurt says, indulging for a moment in chasing Sebastian and Thomas around the kitchen, brandishing one of his craft pumpkins before returning it to the counter, “no stringy pumpkin guts staining Thomas’s clothes. No gunge under our fingernails for weeks. No finding cold pumpkin under our butts when we sit on the breakfast stools, even though I’ve gone over this place about three dozen times with Formula 409. No muss, no fuss, and most importantly, no _mess_.” Kurt’s eyes glance to the clock on the wall. “Not when my dad and Carole are going to be here any minute.”

Sebastian looks down at Thomas, who gazes up at him in anguish.

“But, what about toasting pumpkin seeds?” Thomas asks miserably.

“I bought a pound of pumpkin seeds from Sprouts on the way home,” Kurt says. “So we’re still toasting seeds.”

“And…what about your  _pies_?” Sebastian asks, sounding even more miserable than Thomas. “Your famous Kurt Hummel-Smythe Pumpkin Pies?”

“I got some pie pumpkins at Sprouts, too.” Kurt giggles. “No worries. Do you think my dad and Carole would even walk through the front door if I didn’t have pumpkin pie in the house?”

“Okay,” Sebastian says, “well, what about that yummy pumpkin smell?”

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees.

“I already thought about that…” Kurt walks over to one of the cupboards. He opens a cabinet and takes out a brand new Glade Holiday Scents candle. While Thomas and Sebastian watch in horror, Kurt tears off the cardboard, lights a match, and then lights the candle. He walks with it around the room, spreading the aroma of fake pumpkin in the air before putting the candle carefully on the kitchen table, waving at it lightly so the scent travels into the living room. “Voila!”

“I don’t…I don’t believe this!” Thomas whines, burying his head into the back of his father’s knee. “It’s like a bad dream!”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Sebastian says, contorting slightly to put an arm around his distraught son’s shoulders. “Please tell me that there are a row of giant pumpkins in the back yard, and that this is just another one of those sick, sick ways you get your jollies at my expense.”

“What?” Kurt says, genuinely hurt when he realizes his husband and son might not be joking. “No, Bas. Now, come on. This won’t be so bad.”

“No,” Sebastian says, shaking his head and pointing at the imposter pumpkins on the island. “This…this goes  _beyond_  bad. This is awful!”

“Yeah,” Thomas’s muffled voice concurs.

“I mean, what’s going to be next, Kurt?” Sebastian asks. “Soy candy canes on the tree at Christmas? Styrofoam eggs at Easter? Near beer on St. Patty’s Day?”

“Sebastian…” Kurt speaks right as the doorbell rings. He looks toward the door, but Sebastian puts a hand up to block him.

“No,” he says. “Tom-Tom and I will answer the door. You stay here with your…your… _craft_ pumpkins and your  _fake_  pumpkin smell candle, and you think about what you’ve done.” Sebastian pats Thomas on the head. “Come along, Thomas. Your Papa has some important thinking to do.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Kurt says as Sebastian walks off through the living room to the front door with Thomas attached to one leg. Kurt leans against the frame and watches Sebastian open the front door, eager to hear just how Sebastian intends to complain to his father-in-law about the horrible pumpkins Kurt bought and how he ruined Halloween. If Kurt knows his father, all Burt’s going to care about is if there’s going to be pie and when.

The door swings open and a second later Thomas bolts out, whooping and hollering.

“Oh, thank you, Grandpa! Grandma! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“What the…” Kurt leaves the kitchen doorway and heads for the front door, but he can see them in the front yard even before he gets there – six of the biggest, misshapen, off-color, knobby, and grotesque gourds Kurt has ever laid his eyes on. And there, in the middle of them, are his father and Carole, armed with pumpkin cutters, already sawing out the tops to two of the largest, one of them so big that when he’s done yanking out the cap, Burt picks Thomas up and plops him inside before Kurt can even think to stop him.

“What…the heck…are those?” Kurt asks, staring in disgust at the orange monstrosities blighting his freshly raked lawn.

“Those, my love,” Sebastian says, as giddy as Thomas, “are pumpkins! Actual real live pumpkins.”

“Big Macs to be exact,” Burt adds, waving to his sons from the yard. “Hey, kiddo. Carole told me about your craft pumpkin idea, so I thought I’d lend you a hand.”

Carole quickly adverts her gaze from Kurt’s shocked face, biting her lower lip, her cheeks turning a deep cherry red.

“Hey, Sebastian,” she says, “why don’t you come help me with this one down here on the end? You know, the one out of throwing distance of the front door?”

“So…he finds out about my craft pumpkins,” Kurt says, “and brings over  _these_  disgusting things?”

“Yup,” Sebastian says, slapping Kurt on the shoulder, “and that is why Burt Hummel is the  _greatest father-in-law that ever lived_!”


End file.
